


For Your Eyes Only

by ferretsoda



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cell Phones, F/M, Nude Photos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-11 14:32:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferretsoda/pseuds/ferretsoda
Summary: Was there a word or phrase that could fully encapsulate "seeing Varric Tethras, renowned author and businessman, buck naked, cumming from fingering himself with one hand and using the other to take a photo of it with your phone"?At the moment, no, she couldn't think of one. She couldn't think of anything. Her mind had more or less imploded.





	For Your Eyes Only

 

He squinted at the small "new text" icon flashing on the screen. His fingers twitched instinctively, before he stopped himself.

_This isn't yours, and if she finds out she'll--_

He unlocked the phone. Fuck it. He wasn't sober. It was a valid excuse for mischief.

The text was from Josephine and was way too immaculately-written for this time of night. Then he remembered-- she was overseas, negotiating with her band of goodwill ambassadors. Seeing the time stamp caused the dwarf to groan and lumber towards his bedroom, kicking off his shoes.

 

_"With tailor now and they need reference photo! Thank you~ <3"_

 

Ugh. He could have done without the emoticon. Varric wrinkled his nose and fumbled with his shirt buttons, all while reading the text on the tiny, yet blinding screen. Why did she have the brightness cranked up so high? Didn't elves have those freaky eyes? He shrugged off the shirt and unzipped his pants, tossing them aside before climbing into bed. He stretched out luxuriously, enjoying the cool fabric on his skin, when his conscience cried out:

_What are you doing?_

He froze in place, and slowly looked over at the device. This was the Inquisitor's cellphone. In his bed. More importantly, it was 2 am, and he was really drunk. Sober enough to know he was at a moral crossroads, though. The dwarf propped himself up on one arm, and examined the little plastic-and-metal object. She took the thing almost everywhere-- the numerous scratches and dents proved it. Fortunately the screen wasn't cracked. She didn't even have a passcode on it; Varric clicked his tongue chidingly. He was just glad that _he_ had it and not someone else. An upward swipe and he slowly smiled. The background was one that came with the phone, but it was nice- a little nighttime scene of a beach. It was animated, too. The stars occasionally twinkled and the waves rolled in and out. Must have been calming to have on the battlefield.

There were surprisingly few texts, and the ones that were there were too cryptic for him to translate. Only the one with Josephine seemed normal. The calendar had all sorts of dates in it, though: "meeting with Morris", "lunch w/ council", "trip (bring thermals)", etc. The dwarf frowned-- he was expecting more sordid details. He had a book to write on her, after all. She wasn't giving him anything to work with!

Then he remembered. The camera.

 _Not a lot of photos_ , he noted, and only one or two were of herself. Strange, he thought she'd be more conceited than that. Fumbling fingers found the latest one and opened it.

It wasn't what he was expecting.

This must have been the reference shot Ruffles was referring to, but it sure didn't look like one. Shot from the lips down, the Inquisitor-- Lavellan, was wearing a slightly-faded, worn cocktail dress. It was double-layered: a form-hugging, cream-colored little number, with a sheer gauze layer over it. Like a mix between princess and Barbarella. One arm held the gauze layer up a little, giving him a nice view of her waist-

Fuck.

He quickly sent the photo to Josephine as best he could through his drunken haze and stuffed the phone under the bedclothes. This was getting dangerous, _really_ dangerous. The last thing he should be doing is ogling his fucking boss on her own phone. Besides, he had Bianca. Well... "had" wasn't the term for it. And he couldn't think of the correct one right now. He closed his eyes and laid his head against a pillow, breathing out a long sigh.

 

He felt like calling her.

She'd warned him multiple times about using his real number or email to contact her, making their relationship a very distant and strained one. Once she even told him to use a proxy. Now he had the chance. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Varric's hand snaked its way under the covers and pulled the Android back out. Eyes still closed, he punched the number in (he knew it like the back of his hand), and waited. As the ringing went on, he slowly felt more and more anxious-- what if this was a bad time? What if she recognized the number? What if she was with... him? Wha-

"Who is this?"

"It's me," Varric murmured softly, slowly sliding down the pillows and onto the mattress itself. He could faintly hear the noises of machinery and clanging metal in the background.

"Var--?! It's... what time is it over there? One? Two?" A relaxed smile spread across his lips. Maker, how he missed her voice.

"Just thought I'd call and ask how you were." His words were slowly starting to slur together. He heard a breathy laugh on the other end of the line.

"Well, I'm fine, but it sounds like you're a little wasted."

"More than a little." A moment of silence, and then, "I miss you." A few more moments of silence. Then he heard footsteps, a door closing shut, muffling the machinery sounds.

"I miss you too," she spoke softly. "Are you in bed right now?" Fuck, he loved it when her voice went low like that.

"Mhm," he breathed, folding an arm behind his head. "Can't sleep."

"Send me a pic."

The command sent a jolt of arousal through his body. He must have drunk more than he thought, because his heart was now beating fast and she hadn't said anything even remotely dirty. Or maybe it was because this wasn't his phone. Maybe that was it. The thought made his dick twitch.

"Anything special in it, miss?" he cooed, and switched the phone to speaker mode. He lay it near his head, bringing his hands down to roam freely over his body. He'd done this a dozen times and knew the routine by heart.

"Show me how much you miss me." Click.

 

Seven little words and Varric was sent into a dizzying trance. Fueled by her voice and alcohol, he set to work. Hands that spun amazing tales and poorly-written smut glided over his stomach, thighs quivering with anticipation. He bit his lip as he pushed his boxers down, freeing one leg. A sharp inhale as he lifted his knee and bumped his erection, the head smearing precum on his skin.

 _Fuck's sakes, calm down_ , he thought in exasperation. He opened an eye and saw the fluid glistening slightly in the phone's light, making him swallow hard. This was going to be a good photo, he could already tell. He took hold of himself and began to pump slowly, lazily, letting his memories begin to swirl and form like a whirlpool. That one trip to Jimbaran. Freckled skin peeking out from her swimsuit. As they grew stronger and more vivid, he stroked himself with more fervor. A sheen of sweat formed on his body. His face was flushed. Varric brought a finger up to his mouth and sucked on it, before adding a second. For a moment, he imagined they were someone else's, trying to catch that silver tongue, and couldn't help but moan at the thought. Excess saliva dribbled down his chin-- the alcohol made his body sloppy. He then dragged them down his chest, grazing a sensitive nipple, and slowly, carefully worked a finger into himself. A grunt of discomfort, an unfamiliar feeling, it even hurt. Fuck, it really had been a long time. He gave an experimentally strong thrust and hissed through his teeth when his body flinched. The dwarf licked his lips as the pleasure steadily blossomed.

 

"Ffffuck, Bianca," he ground out, voice turning into gravel as he started pick up the pace. He knew where that sweet spot was, but kept teasing himself. The anticipation always made the reward that much sweeter. Bianca had taught him how - over the phone of course - and damn if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever done. She'd sounded just as breathless as he had when he'd finished. The mere memory sent a spike of pleasure to his brain. He couldn't hold back anymore and fingerfucked himself. Every third or fourth stroke he'd hit that bundle of nerves, sending him arching more and more off the mattress. His thighs were trembling now, his dick practically weeping for attention. Strands of blond hair that escaped his ponytail clung to his sweaty brow as he tossed his head back and forth, muttering obscenities and praises to the night air. Despite the thick fog of lust clouding his brain, he remembered to grab the phone.

His free hand was sweaty and he ended up dropping the damn thing twice. He experimentally took a shot, slowing down long enough to look at it. It was alright; he'd try a different angle. He set the phone to one side and continued his ministrations. The sultry, familiar voice of Bianca drifted through his mind; he could almost feel her hand gripping his as he flicked his wrist just so. A familiar tingling sensation coiled inside his stomach, causing him to rock back onto his fingers and let out increasingly louder cries. His toes curled. He was close.

Varric whimpered impatiently; he was this close and yet he had to hold back to fiddle with some technological bullshit. He moved his arm more to the side so it wouldn't cover his chest so much. Suddenly, the phone vibrated, making him jolt. The action accidentally caused him to scrape a fingernail against his prostate, making him cry out in surprise. His hips snapped upwards as he came, not seeing the camera flash from behind tightly-closed eyes.

It took a few minutes for him to gather himself and come down from his orgasm. He felt the flame of arousal flicker, but not die out completely. He wiggled his fingers, and shuddered. He did it a few more times, and bit his lip hard as he took another shot. Finally he pulled them out, wiped them on the bedcover, and gave a content sigh.

Crawling back up to the pillows, he flicked through the photos. That last one was pretty good-- his expression made him blush. The next one was definitely the pick of the litter, though. For starters, he'd managed to capture the scene in an arty Dutch angle shot. His body was all lit up in the darkness from the warm flash of the camera. The bedsheets were like blackish blue waves, encircling him, making all the focus on him. Also, there was something oddly sensual about seeing his boxer briefs curving over his one thigh. And the look on his face-- holy _shit_. He looked more undone than a cheap hooker's jeans. His hips were raised just so and thank the Maker he did move his arm-- Varric saw the cum had landed on his chest, close to a nipple. A free hand stroked the sticky substance with mild amusement. A bleary, drunken sort of pride bloomed in his chest. Within a few taps, the photo was soon on its way to Bianca. Scarcely able to keep his eyes open any longer, he succumbed to sleep.

 

* * *

 

"Look, Inquisitor, I'm really sorry about all this. It was just a harmless joke."

"Mm."

The white-haired leader didn't look up from the dead Android. Blue eyes scoured every inch of it for any new marks, smudges, or bugging devices. All while Varric sat opposite her, babbling about how he was going to return it eventually, and it was just a prank, and also Bull was the one who suggested it.

The issue seemed to resolve itself as the Inquisitor plugged the phone in, set it next to her computer, and resumed working. Rather than pull the lion's tail, the man decided to slip out quietly from her office. But he was Varric Tethras; he always did have a knack for stirring up hornet's nests.

"Hey, Inquisitor?" he asked, head poking out from the door. Lavellan's eyes slid from the monitor to him. "If you do get that dress, don't get it in black." The elf sat bolt upright.

Fortunately, he dodged any hurled objects, but he didn't miss the look on her face as he escaped.

 

* * *

 

_"Don't get it in black."_

The Inquisitor flipped through the leather-clad menu hotly, nearly tearing a page. Despite wanting to forget the incident, his words really stung. Who does he think he is? And what's wrong with black? And how dare he have gone through her photos?! He **stole** her phone-

"Miss?"

She glared up; the rest of the table was waiting on her.

"What will you... be drinking?" the waiter repeated hesitantly.

"Oh, uh..." She searched for the wine list, squinting at the fine print. "Chablis, I guess," she sighed in defeat. After their orders were taken and the waiter strode off, the initial awkwardness melted with icebreakers and conversations. Their generous hosts, a group of Orlesian landowners, had invited them to lunch with the hopes that the Inquisition would help them out with a problem or two. So, naturally, they were seated on the penthouse floor of the established restaurant, and given the best table. Lavellan, being an outsider to fine dining, invited Vivienne and Cassandra along. And then there was Tethras. Up until this morning, she was feeling confident in that choice. Not anymore.

At the moment, he was recounting to the whole table about _another_ adventure he and Hawke went on. Something about an arishok or whatever. Lavellan was sipping on some ice water, trying to feign interest, when a vibration in her pocket made her jump. She pulled out her phone, which caught Vivienne's eye. The elegant lady leaned over to her and hissed.

"Don't look at your phone, darling, not here-"

Lavellan held an index finger up to her, not looking up from the Android. The mage shot a scornful look, then turned her back to her, becoming quickly engrossed in Varric's story. The Inquisitor, however, was distracted by a new text message:

 

_"That pic was so so hot. Wish I was there X"_

 

Muted horror best described the look on her face as she read it. And re-read it. And re-re-read it. Her brow furrowed in thought. Who sent this?! Anxiety set in, despite her appearing calm on the surface. The search proved futile as the numbers came up; a burner. And what's worse-- it was sent last night. This morning, technically. That means-

"Who had the gin and tonic?"

"Right here!"

Steely eyes slowly panned up to watch the dwarf accept the drink, sneaking a little sip before they had toasted. He'd done it. He'd sent her photo to someone. Someone _she didn't know._  Did the relationship between boss and employee completely fucking die in the last 24 hours? He knew she didn't like sharing much about her private life. He _knew_ that, and yet the little shit had gone and done it anyway. He'd breached her trust for the last time. Her hands moved on their own as she grabbed her napkin and pulled it taut.

Fortunately, the waiter came around with fresh bread and rosemary butter, thwarting any assassination attempts. As the baskets and butter dishes were passed around, it gave her a chance to steal a glance at her phone again. Maybe she could send another photo and put a tracking link in it. Then at least she'd find this person's IP address. Should be simple enough. She'd have to find an enticing picture, though, to get them to click on it. Opening the photo gallery, she quirked an eyebrow-- there were several new pictures. Must have been from last night's party? She didn't take these, that's for sure. Taking a swig from her glass, she tapped on the middle one-

 

 

"I cannot _**believe**_ you! This is absolutely disgusting!"

Vivienne's words echoed harshly off the black marble walls. Lavellan stood meekly outside the stall, hand outstretched to the door.

"I-I didn't mean to... I swear it was-"

"I'll have to take this entire ensemble to the cleaners--" The door swung open without warning, revealing the wine-soaked enchantress. "--which YOU will be paying for--" It slammed shut again, followed by her angrily fumbling with the lock and continuing to gripe and snarl. After several failed attempts at placating her friend, the elf turned and wrung her hands together, before pacing over to a stall in the far corner and locking it. She always prided herself on being able to control her emotions, but after seeing...  _that_... it was too much to think about. Was there a word or phrase that could fully encapsulate "seeing Varric Tethras, renowned author and businessman, buck naked, cumming from fingering himself with one hand and using the other to take a photo of it with your phone"? At the moment, no, she couldn't think of one. She couldn't think of anything. Her mind had more or less imploded. What did an Inquisitor do in an event like this?! There was no "In case of nudes, break glass" case she could smash. It was like she had a ticking timebomb in her hands. Lavellan took a deep breath, and, with a trembling hand, pulled out her phone and opened the photo once more.

A hand flew up instinctively, covering her eyes, until she steeled herself and splayed a finger or two. She gulped audibly. At some point, the hand slid down her face as her eyes dragged over his form, really drinking him in. The muscular arms were a surprise, but he did lug around a crossbow and sniper rifle all day. It was the abs (slightly softened from a wealthy lifestyle) and everything below them that made her throat tighten. She was still too afraid to zoom in, though. This was what they called a "cumshot", right? Fuck, this was neither the time nor the place to be thinking about this. And yet, there, in the palm of her hand was Varric, soul and body laid bare for her eyes only. The thought made her heart beat double-time. She was one of only two people to have seen this. Suddenly the ladies' room felt too hot.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue if I should continue this or not. WAT DO, INTERNET


End file.
